Everything is driven by Ashby’s law of requisite variety: a given system has the potential to achieve stability only if every source of variability from the environment is matched by an equal or greater source of variety in the regulatory system.

The overlapping of different systems — and the tendency of individuals to have different roles at different levels of abstraction — is a key part of Beer’s theory, and one of the main reasons why his diagrams got so complicated. He claims that every ‘viable system’ needs to have all five of the functions described so far in order to be capable of long-term survival, but that every such system can also be seen as System I within a larger system. Similarly, since we defined System I as part of an organisation that could in principle be a viable separate organisation, the internal management of System I needs to have its own equivalents to systems 2, 3, 4, and 5; it needs internal regulation, optimisation and intelligence, and a balancing, identity-preserving function of its own.

Often, when you’re trying to diagnose why a system is failing, you need to consider both the larger system in which it’s embedded and the organisation within its operations. A great source of management problems, for example, is that organisations often fail to identify some of their operations as distinct systems, and so they lack their own internal ‘higher functions’. A division of this sort will generally be a ‘problem child’; unable to absorb its own environmental variability, it will bounce from crisis to crisis, taking up disproportionate time and effort on the part of the middle managers to which it has been assigned.

There is a solution to this kind of problem in the viable system model — Beer emphasises it in his later work, particularly in the parts of the second edition of Brain of the Firm that were written after his experience in Chile. A truly viable system needs to have communication channels that link the operations to higher-level management functions and even to higher levels of recursion. Stafford Beer called these ‘algedonic signals’ — a kind of neurological metaphor, coined from the Greek words for pain and pleasure.

It might be easier, though, to understanding them as the kind of messages sent by the red handle in a train driver’s cab. As well as a physical check on the individual vehicle, the emergency brake sends an organisational message to the whole railway, informing it that a piece of track can’t be used.

I wanted to write a sort of cybernetic political thriller, but it didn’t quite work out that way. It seems that in order to get to the point where the story begins, you need to write eight chapters explaining the construction of the murder weapon. But here we are. To recapitulate, the basic problem is that systems in general need to have mechanisms to recognise themselves when the complexity of their environment gets too much to bear. But the high-level governing systems of the industrial world — economic policy and business management — had some defects and blind spots which prevented this from happening. How did that turn into an economic crisis, and how did it mature into an ongoing political polycrisis? How did we get from the Friedman doctrine and leveraged buyouts to Trump, Brexit and populism?

The first part of the story involves expanding on the conclusion of the last chapter. A key part of recent history has been a story of class struggle, but not the usual kind. There’s been a class war between the capital-owning class and the managerial class.

If every maximising system has to have a higher-level system governing it (to make sure it doesn’t go bonkers), then that logically implies that the top level of any decision-making system that’s meant to operate autonomously can’t be a maximiser. And so, the governing philosophy of the overall economic system can’t be based on the constrained optimisation methodology that’s currently dominant in the subject of economics. Otherwise there’s a risk that the system will go bonkers, and that it will start pushing maximising objectives, oblivious to the danger that it’s on course for making human life impossible. Like it actually has done.